


Thunder (Remastered/Retcon)

by Cheeky_Cheelai



Category: Doki Doki Literature Club! (Visual Novel)
Genre: Altered Mental States, Alternate Universe - Real World, Angst, Bad Humor, Character Death, Child Abuse, Childhood Memories, Childhood Trauma, Cutting, Dreams and Nightmares, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/F, F/M, Family Fluff, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Major Character Injury, Mental Anguish, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Minor Character Death, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Trauma, Romantic Fluff, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Destruction, Self-Doubt, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Self-Reflection, Self-Sacrifice, Sexual Humor, Suicide Attempt, Suicide Notes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-27
Updated: 2019-08-04
Packaged: 2019-11-06 11:51:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17939150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cheeky_Cheelai/pseuds/Cheeky_Cheelai
Summary: A silent boy sleeps without a friend to trust.The Father was an angel desperate for time with others.The injured Mother desperately cries for help.A shy, young woman tries to turn, but the boy convinces her to stay.Not everything goes the way people want them to.The boy will soon learn this.As well as the others. The girls.





	1. Birth of a Believer

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Snow](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13545471) by [Rumbellestiltskin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rumbellestiltskin/pseuds/Rumbellestiltskin). 
  * Inspired by [Flower Thief](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14734136) by [Ririscus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ririscus/pseuds/Ririscus). 
  * Inspired by [Monika x Sayori collection: What it is to be Happy](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13115505) by [eJ121](https://archiveofourown.org/users/eJ121/pseuds/eJ121). 
  * Inspired by [Home](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16037645) by [BimeyMooMimey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BimeyMooMimey/pseuds/BimeyMooMimey). 
  * Inspired by [Five Ways to Create a God When Your Regular One Stops Answering](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14909096) by [pluralfish (rosyy)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosyy/pseuds/pluralfish). 



> Let me know when or if I ever mess up on anything!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What started it all? What made everyone the way they are now? Simple.  
> The child. The child was responsible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I LIIIIIIIIIVE!!  
> Sorry for the wait. Had some issues that impeded my progress (nothing special), but it's finally begun once again!  
> First fic: A failure. Not the worst thing I've made, but it's certainly not the best.  
> Unlike the old version, I WON'T quit just when it's getting good (or bad) like a pansy. Besides, I want to expand more when it comes to the story and plot.
> 
> Enjoy!

* * *

 

**_March 13th, 1996 _ **

 

Silence. There was nothing but. Peace and prosperity the only sounds that could be heard on this day. Well, aside from the quiet murmurs of bystanders in wooden chairs and benches. Either way, today was the ceremony of two persons. The celebration of their soon-to-be eternal bond.

A man, in a dark tuxedo and glistening black shoes, stood carefully with an open ring box in hand. He made sure to buy the most expensive one he could afford, much to the receiver's dismay. However, the one who would have this ring slipped onto their finger deserved it more than anyone he met in his life. More than his friends, WAY more than his family. She had no choice but to digress.

The love of his life was a woman. A unique woman, for that matter. Ah, those marvelously distinct amber eyes and dirty-blonde waterfall curls. Everything about her appearance was Heaven-sent. However, as the old saying goes, 'looks can be deceiving'.

She may seem like a generally nice and active person. The husband, on the other hand, knew her from the inside out. 'Lean and mean', as the man sometimes considered her. But, that doesn't necessarily mean he couldn't have his way with her. Heh, it was strange how she let him have her, despite all those disagreements and disputes they've had for so many years.

It was ironic. In a good way, mind you. Then came the voice of the wiseman in white robes to his left and his lover's right. "Do you, Yokushio Hokori, take Ms. Angelina Kapelle to be your happily wedded wife, in sickest and health, until death parts you?" The response that followed seemed obvious.

"I do," said the man. He was honored to have his name changed. More specifically, he was honored to become an interrelated part of his girlfriend's family. The priest in white robes asked the same question to the future wife.

How could she not? She was standing face-to-face, officially marrying her high school crush! Not only that, he was a very well mannered and respectful man. Yokushio Hokori was the person of her dreams.

Ever since the day Angelina Kapelle transferred over to his school and saw his cheeky face, she knew she just had to have him at some point in her life-- even though he gave her the biggest of headaches and had the most mind-boggling ideas in their classes together. Make no mistake, she had no intention of changing Yokushio. She was happy with _this_ him. All she wanted was a husband who could take care of himself and his family without complaining. That was the very definition of Yokushio Hokori... or rather, Yokushio Kapelle as he declared himself a few days before now.

"I do."

Now was the time to make that wish come true. After so many years, she has finally found the one. The jewel was revealed from the fuzzy indigo box containing it and slipped onto her left ring-finger. The precious jewel at the center of this glorious silver ring was the giver's AND recipient's favorite stone: Rose Quartz, the stone of love and care. It shined dazzlingly in the chandelier held above them. The man beamed as he looked at his beloved. "You may now kiss the bride," the priest spoke pleasantly. He beamed at the sight of a successful marriage.

And the man carried out the opportunity given to him. The groom's lips locked with the lady's delicious mango flavored ones. The crowd, mostly consisted of the pair's whole families, whooped and cheered for the two of them. Such a beautiful scene. It was like watching a romance movie. The two gently moved apart. The girl's bright amber eyes were aligned perfectly with her husband's brown ones.

Finally, the once lonely man could rest assured that this badass who kicks ass and talks sass would stay with him forever. He could comfort her through her struggles, and she could do the same with him if she wanted to. They could have children, argue about what they should be named, laugh it off, the usual.

The future was burning a passionate, positive light. Now, they just had to see for themselves how close they could get to that light.

 

* * *

  

**_July 29th, 1999_ **

 

"Ah... Nngh! Haah!"

Heat was building up from within. A woman, lying on a hospital bed, was gasping and groaning in pain. The aching in her boiling stomach was unbearable. The lights above blinded her. Why did they have to be so bright?

"Angelina," a semi-deep male voice said softly. "Hey, hey, everything will be alright. Just hang in there for me!"

Her husband overshadowed her to make sure she was okay. Thank god, she could see again. And what a great sight it was: her beloved husband with chocolate-brown hair and similarly colored eyes gazing into her squinted pair, outlined by the light above him. She could see him wearing that old brown leather jacket his Grandfather gave him years ago as he rocked in some dark blue jeans.

That pleasant and reassuring smile on his face always succeeded in bringing positivity back to her when it seemed pointless. The man above her gently grazed her messy blonde hair with the back of his right hand.

Her stomach churned as she felt a hard something kick from the inside with all of its might. She went back to shouting in pain while her face shined with sweat. There was no way to describe the agony accurately enough. The soon-to-be Father held out his right hand for her. "Aaah!" She grabbed it and squeezed it tightly, causing him to flinch and grunt. Several brutal pops crackled from the pained hand. Her child-- THEIR child was on the way.

Doctors wearing light blue scrubs and masks swarmed the bed as the woman continued to wail. "Mr. Kapelle," one of them told the brown haired man. "We apologize, but, you'll have to stand outside for now. We'll take it from here." Mr. Kapelle did as he was told and left it to the professionals. They reassured him on his way out the door. "Don't worry. She's in good hands." Still, it hurt him a little inside to be forced away from his wife. It hurt him more to see the pain in those widened amber eyes of hers. But, hey, he had no experience in the medical field whatsoever, so he didn't have much room to object. Good grief.

He opened the blue windowless door and found a seat to his left outside.

At a time like this, there was nothing hands-on that he could do. So, he did the only thing he can at all. Contrarily, he despised doing things like that outside his workplace. To him, it was just hypocritical and rude; an unnecessity, especially to those who didn't accompany him at his job.

He was being watched from above and he'd rather not show. On the other hand, the delicate lady howling and twisting on that bed needed as much support as possible. He had no choice. The young man closed his eyes, clasped his hands together and started chanting words under his breath.

Hopefully, his prayers would be answered by someone--anyone above and beneath the heavens--and he would get to live happily ever after with his new family. Perhaps he could teach his descendant about his own job, or maybe the Mother could show them the ropes of hospitality. God knows what the future holds.

The doctors ran many tests as Mr. Kapelle's wife groaned in suffering. The raging fire in her stomach only made the occasional jolts in her body feel worse. It felt like she was slowly splitting in two from the waist up. She should've passed on the coffee her husband offered this morning. Damnit, Angelina, you dummkoff.

The agitation pestered on and on with no signs of stopping. Doctors paced back and forth with clipboards and birth control gadgets in hand.

Mr. Kapelle found a seat in a row of chairs next to the door. He waited impatiently for the news. The ambient sounds of his hurting wife and exclamations of medics were heard through the closed door that said 'Occupied' in Japanese kanji. His shaking right hand rubbed hard up his stressful head.  The man wasn't prepared for these insecurities. He was scared; scared for the ones he cherished most. A pitiful cliché. _Hold on, a_ _re these tears? They better not be._ Hopefully, his eyes were just irritated by the high air conditioning. If he cried here and now, then God forbid--

As if it were a motivational gift, a familiar shade in the right corner of his eye caught his attention. He saw a faintly reflective pair of mat-black leather shoes. Mr. Kapelle tilted his head up more to see some fresh, stainless gray pants and a light yellow suit and gray jacket; not a spotless set, though, as both were infested with holes and some small cuts in the fabric. Another few inches up he could see the full figure. The guy looking down at him had dark skin, sorta gray hair, and wore a golden chain around his neck with a cross hanging from it.

"What're you doin' moppin' around like that, man," came a deep southern voice. Mr. Kapelle felt a hard smack against his right shoulder. He knew that voice. He rapidly stood up to greet the person in front of him. Praise be, it's him!

"Hey, Ottis," responded the seat-warmer, heavily.

Mr. Kapelle wiped his wet brown eyes before they met the other individual's blues straightly. _Yeah, you better not let the waterworks run, big baby. Whether they're tears or not doesn't mean shit!_  He scratched the back of his head with his lefty. "Sorry. My wife's in there." He pointed an index finger to the door next to him. Ottis smirked. "I'm aware. Your Facebook post got to me." The two buddies sat down in the row of chairs Mr. Kapelle was in.

They proceeded to talk like they did in years past. However, this conversation wasn't as upbeat as most of them were. "So, what are you doing here?" His friend shrugged with that dumb grin of his. "Took the bus," he stated. "There's no way I'd miss your big day." He slouched back. "Who's gonna teach your kid to speak English? Ya boy, Ottis, that's who!" Of course this historian puts others before himself. That's Ottis for you.

*Sigh* The first guy was hunched forward as he looked down at the floor. It's been, at least, five minutes now and no one came out to notify him of what's happening in there. For god's sake, why couldn't he just not be pitiful for ten seconds? He was usually optimistic, no matter the situation. Here, he couldn't stop his mind from picturing the darker possibilities. Ugh, his head didn't feel so good.

His child could die in the process. Worse still, he might end up a widow when this was over. The poor fella didn't need these thoughts, but they appeared anyway. This was the first time this ever happened in his life. Mr. Kapelle never planned for it, but it still made him and his lover exceptionally proud of each other. He would gladly accept that.

Still, how was he supposed to know how this would play out? His head was hanging low as he stared at the polished marble floor. The other man frowned at this body language. This wasn't like him. _He's probably overwhelmed._ Ottis asked, "You good, brother," before his friend snapped out of their trance. The man next to him wasn't ready for the question, so he had to force out what sounded like "Y-Yeah...?" Wow, Yokushio, very subtle.

As expected, the recipient caught on and gave him a face. "Hey, everything's gonna be alright," he stated firmly with a hand on his buddy's shoulder. Not too loud or overwhelming, but serious enough to indicate he was full of confidence. "There ain't no need to tear up now." Suck-up.

Then, after a few more minutes of catching up, the voices suddenly stopped all together. There was nothing but quietness coming from the room. The man with dark chocolate hair stopped breathing for a moment. He quickly leaned and pressed his temple against the solid dark blue. "What just happened," his friend questioned, concerned by the guy's spontaneous stand up.

A loud, youthful scream echoed from behind the door.

A small, warm drop slipped from his hairline. He couldn't look through the door because there wasn't a window installed. Funny. A big, dark blue, patternless door was the great obstacle that stood between him and knowing his future. He exhaled a humored breath. Thankfully, that door wouldn't stay closed for long. Yokushio heard footsteps slowly pitter-pattering towards the door. The man shifted back to his original position before it opened.

One the medics that were in the room stepped out. An middle-aged man with pale white skin and glasses, whilst wearing the common mask, turned to face the patient figure sitting next to his wife's operation room. The moment he did, there wasn't a sound to be heard from the room he just opened up. "Mr. Kapelle," he asked. The man stood up and looked the doc in the eyes. The doctor removed his mask. Yokushio could see very clearly the smile on his face. Good news?

"Congratulations," he said brightly. "It's a boy."

 _Congratulations._ The word rang through Mr. Kapelle's ears. He let it sink in before his face of concern switched to an expression of pure unchangeable joy. Deep brown eyes began to water happily as his old friend slapped him in the back. Pathetic. Even now, he was crying like a wimp. "Hah! You see? No doubt about it, I tell ya!" He wasn't wrong. Not by a long shot. Yokushio asked for permission to enter the room now.

His request was granted without opposition. The doc had one more thing to say, though. "Also," the doc continued. "He weighs seven pounds, so you're free to go whenever you chose. We can escort you home in an ambulance, too, if you want." Yokushio smiled before replying, "Thanks, but I'm sure we'll be fine."

"If you wouldn't mind, I'd like to take the wheel from here and just... soak in the light. It's not that I don't trust you or anything stupid like that, really."

"That's perfectly fine. I'll be sure to inform my coworkers."

"I cannot thank you guys enough for nursing them."

"You are most welcome, sir."

He stepped inside to see what would be forever sketched in his memories: his beautiful, healthy wife lying in the bed, holding a beautiful, healthy baby in her arms. The baby was wrapped up in a tiny towel Yokushio was left absolutely speechless. He rushed over to them with Ottis right on his tail. "Shhhhhh," the woman whispered as she gently caressed the quiet baby's wet, bald head. Doctor said it's a boy, huh? Honestly, gender meant very little to the mister.

The fact that both his newborn AND his beautiful Angelina were safe and sound was enough. Mr. Kapelle faced the lady with tears gushing out of his eyes. Man, he was pathetic. Not that it could be helped. The Mrs. was doing the same thing, anyway. "He's even cuter than we imagined," she remarked in that calmed, lovable accent of hers. Look at her, feeling better already! Yokushio couldn't agree more. Then, an idea emerged. Angelina looked up at her husband and asked him an important question.

"What should his name be?" She then saw Ottis' face and gasped. She wasn't expecting him to be here. "Hey," he said. The two of them began to converse while Mr. Kapelle was left speechless.

Well... *ahem*. That was quick. Mr. Kapelle didn't think about a name. To be fair, this was a topic that needed over an hour's of thinking. You know what? Yokushio looked back at the dark blue door that blocked him from seeing most of the process. He then saw Ottis to his left. "Oh mah gawd," he choked. "Just look at that munchkin face!" The cab driver's blue eyes were completely soaked.

The Father pondered more as the baby in Angelina Kapelle's arms slept soundlessly. So stupidly cute! He couldn't wait to raise him with his beloved. No, Yokushio, think! Think, think, think, think, think, think--

Actually, don't rush. It would be best if they gave it some thought at home. He could also let her choose the name. Yeah, it's for the best. "May we please name him back home," he asked. Angelina accepted in an understanding manner before snickering. She figured he couldn't just spontaneously come up with something right off the bat. Yokushio's cheeks reddened.

He found himself moving out of the way of some doctors seconds later. One of them had a pair of scissors, probably to cut the cord connected to the mother's belly button. And they did. Thankfully, another medic had a pair of cups to keep the fluids inside each end from gushing everywhere. After that, papers were signed, Angelina changed into some clothes her husband brought, and the trio (now a quadrio) walked out of the hospital. The wife tightly held the baby carriage with her left arm and squeezed her husband's left with her right.

The air wasn't so tense this time. A few clouds traveled in patterns, blocking out the out the sun every few seconds. She looked ahead and saw their car sitting in the lot.

It was a shining white Toyota Corolla. The car had only been washed three days before the baby went ballistic inside Angelina, so that's why it looked brand new like they just bought it. As soon as they entered the brightly painted Toyota that would transport them back home, Ms. Kapelle spoke sweetly. "This certainly brings back memories," she said, putting the carriage in the back behind her husband's seat. Mr. Kapelle couldn't agree more. Look how far they've come.

"Reminds me of the time at that graduation party back at Kaisei Academy. Y'know, when we first met." His wife giggled like the baby. "You were sitting all alone and acting all mopey in the southwest corner table eating cake."

"You forced him to dance when he never knew how."

"Hey, this man can adapt easier than both of us, Ottis."

The car departed the hospital after a few more minutes of bickering. Soon enough, the mister remembered the names of his ancestors. Perhaps Marcus, the name of his wife's Father? No, the boy needs a name that blends in. But, a unique name that sounds national, too. Any more brainwork, and he might get another headache. He turned the car right.

"So where do you need to be, Otty," the dirty blonde questioned. The man in the back seat next to the kid sighed as he answered. "Oh, just take me to the nearest market from here. I meant to go there earlier, but I figured you and your husband's sanity were more important. By leagues, to be honest." Mrs. Kapelle laughed at his remark. He's still got that comedic half of his own Father. 

A color and an interrelated member's name...

Eventually, they found Ottis' destination on the left side of the street. He got out of the car, but not before congratulating the couple and saying goodbye. "Godspeed," he whispered, trying not to wake the munchkin. Man, as rude as it would be, it was hard to resist tickling that youngster awake. The African-American shut the door silently.

Yokushio continued to work his brain as he waved to his buddy.

Maybe... just maybe. How about... Ooooo, that sounded like a good one! So good, he couldn't help but mention it:

"Injigo (Indigo in Japanese) 'M.C.' Kapelle," he declared with 50/50 feelings of embarrassment and confidence. Hey, a combination of names from different regions around the world sounded like a good idea when it hit him. Sort of, at least.

Angelina looked at him with a mixed show of emotions. Nothing negative, just a confusing face. Was she shocked? Amused by its badness? "That's a good one." Happy? Yokushio couldn't tell. Wait, what? She liked it? Okay then. His wife smiled warmly. "What does the M.C. stand for," she asked, hinting the nausea she was still enduring. Yokushio explained to her, "It stands for Marcus-Carrie. The names of your parents put into one." Angelina blushed beet-red. For god's sake, how does this man of hers do it? He always found a way to make her feel spoiled.

Whatever. She liked that name regardless. "Yes," she breathed. "Injigo M.C. Kapelle." A *Hee-hee* of youthful happiness came from the back seat. Right after she said 'M.C.'. Angelina turned to see their child giggling wholeheartedly. The baby was awake! And it seemed he enjoyed the name as well, if he understood what they were saying, that is.

Sadly, the Father was unable to look at their newly named newborn because the boy was placed directly behind him. He frowned dismally at this stupid fact. However, even though Angelina could see Injigo, she couldn't get the slightest glimpse of his eyes. Seemingly, they were too gorgeous for him to let her see, since they were being shielded by his humored squint. "Dang," she groaned.

Even when he stopped, his eyes still remained shut. Oh well.

Either way, the Father knew what this meant. It's starting for real now.

His life was now devoted to the protection of his new and improved family.

_That's my boy._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I found the characters I used very interesting, so I wanted to explore that more.  
> (But, I want to keep this as original as I possibly can. There will be references and/or jokes, just much fewer.) There's more to come! I hope you all like this new and improved version of Thunder! See you next chapter!


	2. Decisions and Consequences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life has its twists and turns.  
> Some are more beneficial.  
> Others can be severe; destructive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I am dummy late for this one and I promised before that wouldn't happen again. Don't you guys just love me? 🙃  
> A'ight, let's not waste anymore time.
> 
> HEADS UP: since this fanfic uses real world subjects, as stated in the tags list, and has this timeline placement, some of you can probably guess where this is going.

* * *

 

The Kapelles' car cruised down the street with its precious cargo. Traffic wasn't too large but not too little either. Weather that was reported this morning swept in, making the sky cloudy as hell. Yet there was no rain falling.

Mr. Kapelle, the one behind the wheel, turned left at the upcoming intersection precisely. He heard a snoring noise to his left. His wife sitting next to him in the passenger seat had already passed out. Angelina was clearly tired from everything that happened minutes before they dropped their friend off.

She needed this rest. She deserved it, and so much more after this.

Her husband smiled. Yokushio was ecstatic about whatever the future may have in store for them. He saw the light further down the road flickering from green to yellow to red, telling him to slow down, then stop. As cars crossed the intersection, Mr. Kapelle saw this as a chance to check on his baby boy, just to make sure he was comfy. He turned around to see his adorable offspring.

With a sigh of joy, he saw his kid, who was also sleeping in his tiny little seat. He looked a lot more snug than his Mother, though. Mrs. Kapelle was slouching back in her seat with her head tilted towards her window. A bit of chuckling escaped the brown-haired man's lips. Mr. Kapelle noticed the light above the pavement switched back to its emerald glow. He gently pushed on the gas pedal again.

The Corolla was traveling north at least thirty on Yamete-dori Avenue. Along the way, something caught Yokushio's attention. There was a building on the right hand side of the street. A building that was above average in size, for that matter.

This property had a large scale cubic tower on the right side of the entrance, which resembled that of a boxy cave. Its many windows reflected the sun's light effortlessly. Although the paint job on it was a commonplace milkshake beige, the countless people who came and left made it stand out.

Mr. Kapelle recognized this facility and beamed as he drove past it. Ah, yes, the glorious church in which he resided in every Monday through Thursday. To most, it would seem bland and nothing special; another sight to see on their respective weekly trips through the city. To Mr. Kapelle, on the other hand, this church was like a second home. It changed his life when he first came here.

Still smiling lightly, he turned his attention back to the road before him. In his mind, which was now undoubtedly at peace, he thanked the man of the welkin for giving him this chance; the chance to improve from his many, but old and minor setbacks.

_Thank you. So much. Your gifts are appreciated and shall never go to waste, my lord._

With a satisfied exhale, Yokushio turned right onto Tamagawa-dori Avenue.

Homeward bound.

 

**20 minutes later...**

 

At long last, the Corolla parked itself to the right side of the road. Right in front of a facility much smaller than the church. They've made it back home from the city in one piece. Mr. Kapelle knew they would.

He was a very confident driver, to be mild about it. The back-and-forth rocking and the creaking sounds it made brought a sleeping beauty, whose eyes were dull and watery, back to consciousness. Half consciousness, specifically.

At last, she opened those irreplaceable jewels of hers. With a long, yet soft yawn, she already felt reenergized. When she looked straight ahead, she saw their home a few steps away. Did she nod off on their way back? Apparently, she did. Her husband was the first to get out for once. He carefully grabbed the carriage, holding the baby with two hands.

While he was doing that, his wife undid her seatbelt, opened her door, and stretched her legs out. She pulled herself out of her seat before rubbing the flakes of sleep out. Eugh, she wasn't a fan of that. It didn't bother her today nearly as much as it did when she was a kid, though. She got used to it. Doesn't mean it didn't feel weird knowing those specks grow in your pair when you're unsuspecting.

"Morning, sleeping beauty," her husband murmured. "Or rather, afternoon." She looked at him with her dopey eyes. They were still a teensy bit fuzzy, but she was far from blind. Few more wipes, and her eyesight was crystal clear. She saw Yokushio with their baby son in the carriage.

She looked further down the row they parked on to see a large hotel. The exterior was coated in a basic gray while the roof's tiles were done in black. A copper sign with kanji engraved into it could be spotted on the wall next to the front door. 

The words on that sign read, **•Kapelle Residence•**.

This place was their home, where they ate breakfast together, swam in the same pool, spent every night cuddling and snuggling in bed. Memories never leave you. Memories are what made this place so lovable, which made up for it being cheap as hell. They weren't rich or anything, oh no, both of them were far beneath that level even now. The two simply considered their future life choices early, so they went with the best financial option at the time.

No use wasting your money on personal issues, no use complaining about quality, no use receiving and never giving. Not if you have plans to influence newer generations, especially if you're committed to those ideals. That's how Angelina was raised, and that's why Yokushio picked this place as their living area.

It felt like ages since they've left for the hospital, even though it's only been over a few hours. She wasn't ever the best at keeping track of time. She left that up to her parents. Dirty-Blondy caught up to her lovebird, who was waiting patiently for his gal to get her bearings.

The wedded couple walked slowly on the cobblestones aligned with the entrance. "Ladies first," the husband stated, holding the door open, whilst stepping out of his wife's way. Mrs. Kapelle happily went through the solid wooden door to the interior of their house. Yokushio quickly followed and the door shut behind them before he locked it up. 

Making their way through the tiny the pair was reintroduced to their living room. The setup was typical: wide leather couch sitting before the TV with a miniature four-legged table standing between the two. The Kapelles paced for the couch and chocolate haired adult gently placed the carriage of his young on it. "Need anything," Yokushio asked. With a face of content, she answered, "No thanks, sweetie. I'm fine." For some reason, Yokushio figured she'd say that.

They were both standing in front the couch holding their newborn's basket. A muffled *Blrgh* was heard for a second. Mrs. Kapelle gasped at the sound. "Oh my," she whispered, making sure she wouldn't upset the youngster. Husband and wife were on their knees to inspect the baby as it woke up rather groggily.

Injigo opened his eyes, and Mr. Kapelle was nearly speechless.

"He has your eyes!"

"Shh! You'll freak him out."

"Sorry."

Those eyes that were previously hidden from the world were as wide as they could be at his current age. They sparkled a dazzling amber. His pair was an exact replica of his mother's. Come to think of it, she had that eye color throughout her life, and she always believed there would never be another. What a beautiful miscalculation.

"He probably wanted to keep this between us," Yokushio theorized. Angelina liked the idea, but doubted it harshly in her head. The kid seemed way too young to think that sneakily. Either way, she still responded, "What a secretive little squirt," enthusiastically. The Mother latched onto the Father's right arm, squeezing it tightly. She couldn't help it. They've both gone through so much, and they're still together.

Sitting here, staring at Injigo, who started chortling again, was blissful. Then, Angelina had a funny idea. She let go of her lover's arm and reached a slow, delicate hand out. With that hand in the baby's face, she lightly pinched his nose between her index finger and thumb. "Got your nose!" Injigo began to screech with laughter. Mommy was so much fun to the little tike. 

Yokushio chuckled at Angelina's playfulness. He then proceeded to ask, "Mind if I make dinner for us," before walking around the couch and into the wide, open dining room. His wife nodded. "Fine by me." Whatever happened at this point didn't matter that much anymore. The chocolate haired man went into the kitchen straight ahead, and opened the fridge to check what they had. Some fish, rice, seaweed, what you'd typically expect from a family who lives in a "foreign country" as the Americans referred to it.

"Let's get something for the little guy first," Yokushio said on his way. Angelina was waving her left index finger an inch away from a snickering baby's shiny head. The dirty-blondy smirked as she recognized a... certain step mothers need to follow with their children. "You don't have to do that, y'know," she called back.

Her husband paused. What did she mean by that? In an instant, he remembered, and his cheeks reddened a bit. "Got it." She could hear the slight pitch of embarrassment, which she chose not to dwell on as she wrapped their child in the tiny blanket that came with the carriage, and fed the baby on her own. Yokushio wasn't the type of person you'd expect to remember every little detail in life. To compare, neither wasn't his wife.

Putting his forgetfulness and behind him, Yokushio collected the required materials for their meal, his most used knife. In a short amount of time, his space was balanced out, with tools placed where they needed to be and ingredients sorted by type. He began to slice, dice, and spice things up.

No more than three minutes later, a drop-dead scrumptious looking dish of Red Dragon sushi and Herbalife Green tea was ready to be served. Angelina, still feeding the baby, saw the deliciousness waiting for her. Injigo stopped eating his own food. Hopefully, Mommy would get the message that he was full, which she did. The dirty-blondy placed him back in his basket, adjusted her shirt, and joined her husband for that 'good shit'.

Surprise, surprise, she wasn't that big of a fan of tasting raw meals. All it took was a couple years, though, and Mrs. Kapelle wound up loving it. See, that's the trick Japan hides from you. "Blessings in disguise," her husband said probably a month before their marriage, and that line she remembered for years now wasn't directed at just sushi. 

So, the lovely pair ate, talked, or reminded each other of the past. They told unvisited stories about what happened when they were younger, screwing with each other whenever a random memory formed. They continued this for almost six minutes, when Mr. Kapelle noticed something.  _Wait a minute._  Yokushio swallowed and checked his wristwatch. _We took off for the hospital around three... forty, I guess? What time is it now?_  

**7:59 P.M.**

An  light shined into his eyes. He turned and looked out of a nearby window in the wall to his left. The sky had a sweet shade of orange, and the sun was a few inches away from the horizon. Yokushio turned his attention back to his family. "It's getting a little late." Angelina looked at him before she let go of her son's nose. Injigo yawned and shut his stellar eyes the moment she stopped playing. "Should put him to bed now or something?" He wasn't too sure. 

Well, he wasn't sure if it was the right time, per se. But, his wife agreed when she saw looked outside for herself. "Lemme do it." She stood up, lifted her burrito'd son from the basket with both hands, carrying him into the northwestern hallway leading out the living room. 

At the end of the hallway, there was a shut door on the right hand side. Yokushio once again let his mate in first. In Injigo's extensively wide room sat a huge metal dresser loaded with drawers full of  items used for treatment and a lonely, plastic crib decorated with complimentary yellow and white strips all over; both of which rested flushly against the left corner further away from the entrance. There were head sized rubber balls lined up on the left side coming in, and building blocks made of foam tidily stacked against the right.

They had planned what would go where since the day they were forewarned about Angelina's pregnancy. As many would expect, Yokushio did all the work. He wouldn't dare risk Angelina's health then and there. Actually, he let a LOT of reckless things she'd do slide, but only because the stakes were puny compared to losing an only child for the love of lords. Angelina stepped toward the roofless bed-cage, tightly holding Injigo without any signs or intentions of abandonment. Fully concentrated, she stopped in front of the crib and lay the sleepy infant in his cozy quarters.

Smiling, she began to whisper a short lullaby in her native language as she silently tiptoed back out the door.

 

 

"In alten Tagen,  
Wir krümmten uns und weinten.  
In alten Tagen,  
Ich stand auf und schrie."

"Hier ... unter unserem Dach,  
du liegst,  
Hier ... unter den Sternen des Weltalls,  
Sie bleiben."

"Bitte. Bitte.  
Für Liebe und Fürsorge,  
Für Hass und Hölle,  
Sei hier."

"Du wirst immer gebraucht."

 

Once she was clear, she quietly and smoothly closed the door, which hardly gave off so much as a squeak. Good call on Yokushio's part to oil it. "Hopefully," he began. "He'll stay like that for the rest of the night." That didn't quite sound as truthful as he hoped. He wasn't counting on a silent night, as he was more of a realist than an optimist. "Yeah, I imagine," Mrs. Kapelle agreed, playfully. 

Both husband and wife turned to face the wide-open room on the exact opposite side of the hallway from the baby's room. They moved in to prepare themselves for their own snooze.

Inside was a king's bed pushed against the wall on the left facing the entertainment shelves and hung up television system. Another doorway leading to the bathroom stood beyond the bed in a corner, which the Kapelles walked into to shit, shower, and shave. They took turns doing all of that, as well as brushing their teeth until they were freshly white.

Eventually, they'd make their bed nice and tidy before taking most of their clothes off. Yokushio was still in underwear and boxers, while Angelina kept her panties and bra on. The lovebirds jumped right in, snuggling and cuddling with each other. Warmth overflowed and bounced off of them as they rested in each other's arms.

This heat held a much more positive feeling than before in that overly bright hospital. Angelina embraced Yokushio tighter, kissing the skin of his fairly solid abs. She missed doing that. "Hey, I have a question," said Mrs. Kapelle. Her husband listened well. "What do you think he should become when he grows up?"

 _Tough one,_  he thought. He gave the best response he could give. "I don't know about that one, love."

Then, an image appeared in his clockworking brain: Father and  son standing next to each other before Yokushio's workplace. "Why not add him to my group?" He had no issue with that. She breathed responsively, "That's quite the idea you got there."

"Don't worry, Angie, it'll be his decision, regardless."

"I know, babe. I'm just asking so we won't go crazy over something so small and simple to forge."

Understandable. Mrs. Kapelle shifted closer to her man. "Y'know, I'm getting flashbacks from when we banged for the first time," Yokushio declared out of nowhere. Angie pushed herself back a little. She'd usually ask why. On the other hand, for tonight, it wasn't worth much. "Oh yeah. I used to love calling you my 'kleptomaniac'," she hummed cunningly. Mr. Kapelle frowned at the lowblow he just took. Angie continued to poke her tame bear. "What? You were a natural in bed when we hit it off, and a natural in rule bending before I was even a thought on your mind." Her grin grew to a full, evil smile.

Fair point, but Yokushio wasn't big on having those memories. That day when his parents got involved with these schemes; this special moment always forced him to face-palm after remembering it.  
"I guess you could say you've influenced me to change with that ego of yours," he spat back. Angelina chuckled at his feistiness. It's true.

She was one HELL of a nerd back in her day, when the dirty-blondy was just another one of those middle school losers. Some days, she would even monologue about being the most sensible and calculated. Like her beloved, the presently slender girl had a past of her own that made her feel horribly shitty when reminded.

At the very least, she was a nerd capable of maturity, despite the narcissistic aura her appearance and behavior gave off. Having glasses, terrible acne, disturbing weight issues, and many more unnecessary body details already put young Angie at a disadvantage when it came to making friends. The only person she'd consider a true friend was that gentle wiseman, Ottis-- Until five years ago.

The two continued their cuddles, until they finally fell asleep around **8:06**. At last, they could sleep together without any hormone interference or eggshell-walks.

Strangely enough, in Injigo's room, there wasn't a peep to be heard. Not even once did he wake Mommy and Daddy up.

 

* * *

 

**_September 12th, 2001 _ **

 

Sunshine brightened up the day after what felt like a month's worth of nothing but rain. People were bustling about, driving or walking from place to place, talking to their colleagues about their most recent events. The morning forecast mentioned _"No showers for today or the rest of this week"_ , adding to a certain chocolate haired man's already positive outlook on the days to come.

Yokushio, who just finished his to-go lunch, was driving home from work. Plenty of traffic was inevitable these days, yes, but it didn't matter today. He'd get to see his family again. While turning right at the familiar intersection, he ran into a red light.

Seeing this as a chance to check in with his wife, Mr. Kapelle pulled his phone out of the cup holder he left it in and swiftly dialed her number. No response. Weird. _She probably doesn't have her ringer on. Oh well, trial and error._ He tried again. Nothing. The once calm and content man began to freak out a little, chewing the tip of his right thumbnail off and leaving a rigid mark on the edge of the rest.

He tried one last time. Third time's the charm, right? He held his breath as another light halted him. *Phew* Sanctuary, a response! He held the phone to his ear with his open right hand. "Hello? Sweetie is--"

A compilation of sharp and horrid breaths could be heard from the other end. Those sounds made his heart launch itself straight up into his throat. Is she passing out over there?! "Babe," he shouted into the mic. "Are you okay?!" A whimper of fear entered his ear, followed by what sounded like a tormented sob.

"It's... oh fucking hell, it's..."

The man's eyes widened with fright. "What happened? Is Injigo--?" There was a short interval before Angelina managed to say, "He's fine. Nothing's... wrong with him, there's..." Mrs. Kapelle couldn't bring herself to say another word, from the way she said that.

No warnings at all, she hung up.

The light briskly burned neon green, and Yokushio floored it like he was running from the Devil.

 _Why is she acting like that,_ he pointlessly questioned himself. For her sake, he had to hurry. 

 

* * *

 

Fourteen minutes have passed since the distress on the phone. The Corolla screeched to a stop the second Mr. Kapelle saw his house directly next to him. Traffic conditions reduced the slow and peaceful journey into a nightmare, but now he was home to comfort his wife. Hopefully, he could distract her from whatever caused her to panic.

Still in a state of tension, Yokushio jumped out, slammed, and locked the doors to his car. He sprinted for the front door, fumbling a little with his keys until he found the one he needed. He opened the door so fast and so hard, it smashed against the stopper, marking the wood with a small dent.

Forget the payments. He'll replace that thing later. God forbid these scenarios for the rest of his life, please. Yokushio jogged into the living room. "I'm home! What's going on, love?"

The first thing he saw was his wife sitting on the couch hunched over,  face completely covered by her shaking hands without any seems. Mr. Kapelle dropped to the floor by her side. "Hey, hey, sweetie," he said, holding her shoulders wholeheartedly. He tried to soothe her by rubbing and massaging those shoulders of hers and repeating, "It's okay, honey. I'm here. I'm here..." He asked her again what caused this breakdown. Angelina never spoke a single word, or even make a sound other than helpless whimpering.

All the did was get up and grip the remote to the television system. She turned it on and switched it to the news channel. It was recorded, so she was able to rewind back to what trigger.

Looking at the screen, Yokushio saw something that would haunt him worse than anything he witnessed before.

It was a camera-shot video from the ground of two similarly structured towers, both of which were set ablaze. People were running away as fast as their legs would let them, shrieking in terror and fear. The clip cut to a much farther view of the disaster. In a few seconds, one the two buildings' middle sections burst into dust. Then, as if it were a movie, the whole tower caved in on itself and crashed with and audio-fucking rumble to the ground, smoke and smithereens engulfing everything within eight blocks.

More awful screams and shouts were heard. After five slow and spine tingling seconds of citizens calling for help, the audio of a woman, most likely the reporter, describing how everything went to shit so quickly.

"Tragedy strikes in the United States of America, as the Twin Towers of New York City's World Trade Center are bombarded by American Airlines' Flight 11 at **8:46 A.M.** and Flight 175 at **9:03 A.M.** "

"Both planes have been coordinately hijacked during their trips and forcibly driven into the separate facilities at approximate speeds of four hundred sixty-six and five hundred ninety miles per hour by a group of terrorists with a goal yet to be known."

"The attacks caused the deaths of 2,996 people, including the passengers on board Flights 11 and 175, and the injuries of more than 6,000 others--"

Angie pushed hard on the remote's power button. She plopped onto the sofa again, crying more and more.

A strange noise came from the kitchen. The hopeful Father looked over and saw his child in a baby seat at the dinner table. Injigo's mouth was a mess; mushy food was smudged across his lips as he sat by himself. He wasn't giggling or smiling at all. In fact, it seemed like _he_ was gonna start losing control, too. Angie must have been feeding him when she overheard the news. There's some refreshment, to say the least.

She tilted her head back up and glared intensely at her husband. That face gave off an intimidating message, almost like she planned to slaughter anything in her way. Yokushio held her resting hand with determination. "Sweetie," he began. His lips made contact with the skin. "I'm... so sorry. I don't know what to say about this." For good reason, too. Angie was never the best with handling death or destruction no matter where it happened. As Mr. Kapelle attempted to soothe her, she kept glaring at him. Eventually, her expression of anguish heavily switched to torment and unbearable sadness.

Eyeing Yokushio to his soul, she finally conversed with him. "I think that my big bro was in there." The Father's heart plummeted into the ravine of emptiness that was his stomach. It sank back to normal a second ago, but from hearing that weeping tone, it hit rock bottom. The last thing he wanted was to piss her off with a poor choice of words.

Mixed between sorrow and hate, Mrs. Kapelle breathed in and out, chewing hard on her upper lip. She could easily tell that her behavior was startling her husband. _Calm yourself,_  the mad Mother thought, scolding herself for being pathetic. Raging out of hand won't do any good. The ropes tension in her muscles and mind loosened. Her face wasn't all scrunched up anymore.

After a moment of silence, she finally wiped and waved her face to get rid of those weak tears. "We've committed so many warcrimes that normal, living human beings won't even dare to act on," said a groaning wife. Oh yeah, Yokushio remembered all of that. Every last bit of info, he knew, hatefully. What they did on their own accord; those Americans have been through enough. "They didn't deserve this," Angelina continued. "Not a single person who lives in America needed to see or hear this bullshit."

If something sickening like this were to happen to their only son, then...

Numerous visions formed in her head. Visions of her boy lying dead on the floor; in ashes, dismembered entirely, covered in stab wounds, the list was just endless. Some of those visions were also circulated around her pencil past. Heartache, selfish pitying, disgustingly weak mentality. She didn't want that for him.

Like it or not, she had to speak up. "That's it," she stated with that stern face again. "We're making a timed schedule for later." What was she suggesting? Mr. Kapelle was concerned about her next sentence. "We're going to make sure our son lives a healthy life no matter what. He's NOT gonna go to any clubs, he's NOT joining any field trips, and he sure as dogshit ain't visiting any friends after school." Yokushio was stunned in disbelief. He objected her ideals without hesitation. "Now, Angie, I know you're very upset about this, and that I could never feel as pained as you probably do now but--"

"NO. 'BUTS'. GOT IT?"

The opposer shook. He couldn't counter that teeth-gritted response if he wanted to. Angelina talked more about her plan for Injigo's _safety._  Pacing back and forth from one side of the living room to the next, she confided every extent. "I'm fucking done with this. I wanted to believe our world is finally at peace after that riot we call a war. I've verbally fought against violence for years. I've attended marches and protests, hoping so badly that we can all just get along. I've tried to deny it..."

"But now, I'm afraid I've seen the truth." She stepped left of her husband's view. 

"With all due respect, love, the world is what it is. It's not safe out there. It never has, and it never will be while we breath here. It's not safe for Injigo to wonder off and befriend the wrong person. You and I both want to protect him, right?" She moved to the right.

"Then we need to shield him from all danger at all costs."

Sorry... what? Yokushio couldn't believe what he was hearing from his wife. First of all, how dare she consider WWII as a 'riot'. That itself is an insult to the dead, and she knew it. Yes, she came here to Tokyo from Germany in search of a better life with their crisis resulting from said war still going on, but that doesn't come close to registering as an excuse.

Besides, there's no chance on earth she's actually considering that. Taking away Injigo's social privileges instantly, simply because something happened on the other side of the world? His courageous side took the helm. "What about his health," he countered with a brooding voice. "How can we keep him in if he can't better himself? We wouldn't be where we are if we hadn't made our own friends." Angie moaned at his stubbornness. If only he could see the full picture.

Make no mistake, she had a point. Earth is a dangerous place. Technically, the whole universe they existed in was a death trap. But, that's beside the point Yokushio was attempting to prove. Angelina desperately answered, "We'll buy him a phone and treadmill early," hoping he'd see through her wetted eyes what she wanted for their son.

Angie's husband sighed. His body didn't feel fresh like it did earlier. "Alright. Alright." He gave up. Sadness overtook his wife when he said it like that. "Baby, I don't want to do this. I really, REALLY don't. He'll probably even hate me for reprimanding him. But, I want him to live with confidence. I want him to live with his own goals as a priority." She meant that. She meant it with a passion. Mr. Kapelle turned to his kid.

Injigo just sat in his chair, snoozing through the boring Mommy and Daddy talk. He really likes sleeping, and he's only two. Angelina stopped in the middle after at least six laps of walking. "It's our job, as parents, to guide our son down the right road. If he grows up with a person he considers a friend, only for them to betray him, or possibly even kill him, what good are we? There's no way I'm letting that happen."

"I've been there-- WE'VE been there, Yokushio," she mentioned, pointing to herself and her beloved. Grr, she did not have to remind him. Sure, they've moved on from those times. However, those memories still cling to them harder than titanium locks. Good times, eh? "And one more thing," Dirty-blondy had something else to say. "I want to firmly establish that I'm not banning him from social interaction. I have no objections to him consulting with his teachers to make sure his grades are up to speed, and Ottis is the one person I trust enough to keep him safe if either of us aren't around."

"Still, peers and supervisors don't usually fall into the same category, know what I mean?"

"Fine by me, munchkin," Mr. Kapelle conceded, cupping his forehead. His wife inched forward and bear-hugged him. He'd probably regret agreeing to this as he returned her contact. There's just so much to take in. Yokushio had no choice but to accept it. "What's your plan?" Angelina was exasperated.

Can't stop flapping her dumbass gums now, though.

 

* * *

  

** _June 1st, 2004_**

 

"Why you wee lil' rascal, c'mere!"

"Nya-nya!"

A relatively young boy giggled cheekily as he tried to run away from his playmate. Moments ago, he snatched his chaser's wristwatch. Now, he was a crook on the run from the big-boy police.

Injigo Kapelle was five years old, and he was more than capable of speaking and walking in a straight line. His hair finally grew out where it can be visible, but it was still in the works. He was almost fully potty trained, making sure to book it for the bathroom whenever he had to go—Emphasis on _almost_. The kid's also been doing a good job in his school, learning the alphabet, contractions and basic addition, which pleased his parents a lot.

So far, he's seen lots of road-runner cartoons as of late, thanks to his latest birthday present being a small television system placed on the dresser away from the appropriately sized bed he got the celebration before. The boy with his shining eyes of amber enjoyed them whenever he got the chance to watch.

Though, watching and reenacting are two different things regardless of how you say it, and innocent little Injigo here wasn't that great, to put it bluntly. Nothing was hindering him, though. He wasn't wearing anything heavy, just a diaper. Again, he wasn't finished with training yet. His Father would give it another week or so and see what happens. The young squeaker managed to "outrun" the until he bounced into the kitchen. Dead end.

At last, Big-Boy Officer Ottis Sebastian, with his grey jeans and  cornered his criminal, grunting whilst lifting him up high with with those strong arms of his. Injigo laughed to his heart's content, and the old man beamed with positivity. Ottis would soon get around to making him lunch. He called in sick for work today so he could nurture his buddy's son. That poor guy had a little too much to cram into his list this week. Angie usually worked at home, so she too could help Injigo out.

Unfortunately, duty calls. She had to go out for a meeting that required her attendance in person. You could say it came full circle.

While Injigo waited patiently for his lunch, he began to wonder about something. Two secs later, he was handed a plastic plate sculpted and painted into a panda's happy face. Baby carrot sticks, chicken nuggets and some mac 'n' cheese loaded his platter completely. The whole setup was a microwaveable recipe, since Ottis could hardly cook to save his life, but lunch made the kid joyful either way.

Yeah, it's not that perpetual to anticipate these feelings from a boy his age. Ottis found a seat next to the little tike as he dug in hastily, despite having a snack fifteen minutes beforehand. After finishing his food, burping, and saying, "Excuse me," like his Mother taught him, the ideas from earlier came back instantly. "Hey, Ottis," he asked with hope filling his expression. "Yeah, little guy?"

His youthful pal spoke his thoughts. "I have der... der..." He had a tiny bit of trouble getting the right syllable. His tongue just hated him. "Three!" He finally squeaked. The wiseman hiccuped goofily to his high pitch. "There ya go!" The two of them snickered together. "I have... three questions," Injigo laughed his babysitter. When they settled down, Old man Ottis lended his ears.

"First off: Can I call you 'Uncle Ottie?" Daaaww, look at this kid wanting to call him Uncle. Funny guy, ain't he? "Sure, why not?" Injigo whooped and thanked his new interrelated relative. Imagination's certainly a common thing with this child.

"Second: Why did Mommy want you to be here?" A simple question with a simple answer. Ottis was the only person Angie would trust to babysit her kin. "Welp, if I were shrink my answer, I'd say it's 'cause we've shared a teacher-student relationship." Injigo got confused at the latter half of his explanation, his eyebrows shifting like the strange faces he saw on TV.

The wiseman tried to conjure a comprehendible example. "Think about your school, kiddo. Whenever there's somethin' you don't know, you raise your hand to grab teacher's attention, right?" The youngin' nodded. "It was something like that, except it never been in an actual classroom. Any day your Mama ain't got no answer, she comes to me so she can learn about out world." Amber eyes lit up. Was he some sort of magician? That sounds so cool!

Interestingly enough, this expression of his made it clear to Ottis what he was thinking. "I don't ever consider myself as an all-knowing magician, but I've lapped around earth's block more times than I can count." Injigo wasn't as happy anymore. A shame, considering Ottis was so knowledgeable that he taught Injigo's Mommy. Ah well, you learn something else every day... wait a minute.

He chose to fire the next and last one rapidly. From the way this question was worded out, it sounded a little more frantic.

"Third: Can you please take me to the park?"

His unrelated Uncle stopped himself before he could reply. Without speaking or showing, Ottis ditched his giggly nature. He recalled his friends telling him as seriously as humanly possible not to let him out of the house to go anywhere. _"Don't let him look out from the back porch,"_ he said. _"Don't take him out to any restaurants or fast food services,"_ she said. Ottis' straight face remained. On the other hand, he didn't know what to say in return. "Now, now, young Inji," he responded with a combined feeling of earnestness and temptation. "Mama and Dad told me to watch over you, not go on a trip." He poked the kid's nose in a teasing fashion with a stealthy left index.

Young Injigo took this answer to heart. "Why?" His tone changed as his mood was swept by ambition. It's been four darn years of denial, if he remembered correctly. "They won't know," he added in a pessimistic volume. So what if his parents said no? He wanted to go outside and he wanted to do it now.  _This kid, man._ Ottis pondered at what his friends would say if he betrayed them. Nothing pleasant, surely. Especially if Angie found out. She sounded much more inclined to her rules than her husband did when they informed him of what to do and what not.

Contrary to belief, he never saw anything wrong with spending an hour in the sun. Eyeing every part of his expression, Ottis imagined he was more than eager. Was he angry? No, just impatient, same as his Mother in her younger days. Perhaps they weren't so different. Ottis and Injigo; The two individuals had a mutual interest in exploring the world. Actually, all four of them had something in common. Injigo just had to find out for himself.

Welp, he'll have to agree to disagree. The old man stood up from his chair and pushed it back beneath the table. "A'ight, Injigo." His smile carried proudness and honesty. "Let's wash you up and get some clothes on." Upon instinct, Injigo's internal energy spiked again. He hadn't felt such joy in a while. "YES!! THANK YOU!!" The kid zoomed to the bathroom, Ottis leisurely following. Look at the little guy go. "Oh," called a voice from the bathroom. "I have another question! I promise this is my last one!" Ottis looked at the bathroom doorway, curiosity refocusing him.

"May I please be called 'MC' from now on? And can you tell my parents that, too?"

The babysitter was puzzled when heard that. How come he wanted that? What's wrong with his first name? The kid responded, "I like my middle name, 'cuz it sounds less weird than my first," like he read Ottis' mind from there. The wiseman called back, "Sure ya can, bud!" Injigo–*ahem*–MC cheered in more delight. Simple minded squirt.

Neither of them had any idea that, because Ottis granted his unofficial nephew's wishes, today would be the start of something wholesome that would inevitably develop into a team effort. All the wiseman had to accomplish was wash his little buddy, get the kid an appropriate outfit, and find... his stick? The old man stopped and searched using his head and eyes. 

Christ criminy, where'd he leave the thing? Aging is such baloney.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I'm not a big fan of referencing these sorts of topics, because I've heard people tend to get fired up about them, but this is an "Alternate Universe - Real World" story, so...  
> (I'm waiting for people to just lash out at me. I don't blame them, really.)
> 
> Not sure when the next chapter will be out, but it will come and it won't take so damn long this time. It's also gonna focus more on the girls. Balancing the spotlight, y'know?  
> Thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! If you enjoy this, please let me know. We're here to have a good time, after all ;)


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